Doctor Thorne

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER IV

  Lessons from Courcy Castle

  It was the first of July, young Frank Gresham's birthday, and theLondon season was not yet over; nevertheless, Lady de Courcy hadmanaged to get down into the country to grace the coming of ageof the heir, bringing with her all the Ladies Amelia, Rosina,Margaretta, and Alexandrina, together with such of the HonourableJohns and Georges as could be collected for the occasion.

  The Lady Arabella had contrived this year to spend ten weeks in town,which, by a little stretching, she made to pass for the season andhad managed, moreover, at last to refurnish, not ingloriously, thePortman Square drawing-room. She had gone up to London under thepretext, imperatively urged, of Augusta's teeth--young ladies' teethare not unfrequently of value in this way;--and having receivedauthority for a new carpet, which was really much wanted, had madesuch dexterous use of that sanction as to run up an upholsterer'sbill of six or seven hundred pounds. She had of course had hercarriage and horses; the girls of course had gone out; it had beenpositively necessary to have a few friends in Portman Square;and, altogether, the ten weeks had not been unpleasant, and notinexpensive.

  For a few confidential minutes before dinner, Lady de Courcy and hersister-in-law sat together in the latter's dressing-room, discussingthe unreasonableness of the squire, who had expressed himself withmore than ordinary bitterness as to the folly--he had probably usedsome stronger word--of these London proceedings.

  "Heavens!" said the countess, with much eager animation "what canthe man expect? What does he wish you to do?"

  "He would like to sell the house in London, and bury us all here forever. Mind, I was there only for ten weeks."

  "Barely time for the girls to get their teeth properly looked at! ButArabella, what does he say?" Lady de Courcy was very anxious to learnthe exact truth of the matter, and ascertain, if she could, whetherMr Gresham was really as poor as he pretended to be.

  "Why, he said yesterday that he would have no more going to town atall; that he was barely able to pay the claims made on him, and keepup the house here, and that he would not--"

  "Would not what?" asked the countess.

  "Why, he said that he would not utterly ruin poor Frank."

  "Ruin Frank!"

  "That's what he said."

  "But, surely, Arabella, it is not so bad as that? What possiblereason can there be for him to be in debt?"

  "He is always talking of those elections."

  "But, my dear, Boxall Hill paid all that off. Of course Frank willnot have such an income as there was when you married into thefamily; we all know that. And whom will he have to thank but hisfather? But Boxall Hill paid all those debts, and why should there beany difficulty now?"

  "It was those nasty dogs, Rosina," said the Lady Arabella, almost intears.

  "Well, I for one never approved of the hounds coming to Greshamsbury.When a man has once involved his property he should not incur anyexpenses that are not absolutely necessary. That is a golden rulewhich Mr Gresham ought to have remembered. Indeed, I put it to himnearly in those very words; but Mr Gresham never did, and never willreceive with common civility anything that comes from me."

  "I know, Rosina, he never did; and yet where would he have beenbut for the de Courcys?" So exclaimed, in her gratitude, the LadyArabella; to speak the truth, however, but for the de Courcys, MrGresham might have been at this moment on the top of Boxall Hill,monarch of all he surveyed.

  "As I was saying," continued the countess, "I never approved of thehounds coming to Greshamsbury; but yet, my dear, the hounds can'thave eaten up everything. A man with ten thousand a year ought to beable to keep hounds; particularly as he had a subscription."

  "He says the subscription was little or nothing."

  "That's nonsense, my dear. Now, Arabella, what does he do with hismoney? That's the question. Does he gamble?"

  "Well," said Lady Arabella, very slowly, "I don't think he does." Ifthe squire did gamble he must have done it very slyly, for he rarelywent away from Greshamsbury, and certainly very few men looking likegamblers were in the habit of coming thither as guests. "I don'tthink he does gamble." Lady Arabella put her emphasis on the wordgamble, as though her husband, if he might perhaps be charitablyacquitted of that vice, was certainly guilty of every other known inthe civilised world.

  "I know he used," said Lady de Courcy, looking very wise, and rathersuspicious. She certainly had sufficient domestic reasons fordisliking the propensity; "I know he used; and when a man begins, heis hardly ever cured."

  "Well, if he does, I don't know it," said the Lady Arabella.

  "The money, my dear, must go somewhere. What excuse does he give whenyou tell him you want this and that--all the common necessaries oflife, that you have always been used to?"

  "He gives no excuse; sometimes he says the family is so large."

  "Nonsense! Girls cost nothing; there's only Frank, and he can't havecost anything yet. Can he be saving money to buy back Boxall Hill?"

  "Oh no!" said the Lady Arabella, quickly. "He is not saving anything;he never did, and never will save, though he is so stingy to me. He_is_ hard pushed for money, I know that."

  "Then where has it gone?" said the Countess de Courcy, with a look ofstern decision.

  "Heaven only knows! Now, Augusta is to be married. I must of coursehave a few hundred pounds. You should have heard how he groaned whenI asked him for it. Heaven only knows where the money goes!" And theinjured wife wiped a piteous tear from her eye with her fine dresscambric handkerchief. "I have all the sufferings and privations ofa poor man's wife, but I have none of the consolations. He has noconfidence in me; he never tells me anything; he never talks tome about his affairs. If he talks to any one it is to that horriddoctor."

  "What, Dr Thorne?" Now the Countess de Courcy hated Dr Thorne with aholy hatred.

  "Yes; Dr Thorne. I believe that he knows everything; and adviseseverything, too. Whatever difficulties poor Gresham may have, I dobelieve Dr Thorne has brought them about. I do believe it, Rosina."

  "Well, that is surprising. Mr Gresham, with all his faults, isa gentleman; and how he can talk about his affairs with a lowapothecary like that, I, for one, cannot imagine. Lord de Courcy hasnot always been to me all that he should have been; far from it." AndLady de Courcy thought over in her mind injuries of a much graverdescription than any that her sister-in-law had ever suffered; "but Ihave never known anything like that at Courcy Castle. Surely Umblebyknows all about it, doesn't he?"

  "Not half so much as the doctor," said Lady Arabella.

  The countess shook her head slowly; the idea of Mr Gresham, a countrygentleman of good estate like him, making a confidant of a countrydoctor was too great a shock for her nerves; and for a while she wasconstrained to sit silent before she could recover herself.

  "One thing at any rate is certain, Arabella," said the countess,as soon as she found herself again sufficiently composed to offercounsel in a properly dictatorial manner. "One thing at any rate iscertain; if Mr Gresham be involved so deeply as you say, Frank hasbut one duty before him. He must marry money. The heir of fourteenthousand a year may indulge himself in looking for blood, as MrGresham did, my dear"--it must be understood that there was verylittle compliment in this, as the Lady Arabella had always conceivedherself to be a beauty--"or for beauty, as some men do," continuedthe countess, thinking of the choice that the present Earl de Courcyhad made; "but Frank must marry money. I hope he will understand thisearly; do make him understand this before he makes a fool of himself;when a man thoroughly understands this, when he knows what hiscircumstances require, why, the matter becomes easy to him. I hopethat Frank understands that he has no alternative. In his position hemust marry money."

  But, alas! alas! Frank Gresham had already made a fool of himself.

  "Well, my boy, I wish you joy with all my heart," said the HonourableJohn, slapping his cousin on the back, as he walked round to thestable-yard with him before dinner, to inspect a setter puppy ofpeculiarly fine breed w
hich had been sent to Frank as a birthdaypresent. "I wish I were an elder son but we can't all have thatluck."

  "Who wouldn't sooner be the younger son of an earl than the eldestson of a plain squire?" said Frank, wishing to say something civil inreturn for his cousin's civility.

  "I wouldn't for one," said the Honourable John. "What chance have I?There's Porlock as strong as a horse; and then George comes next. Andthe governor's good for these twenty years." And the young man sighedas he reflected what small hope there was that all those who werenearest and dearest to him should die out of his way, and leave himto the sweet enjoyment of an earl's coronet and fortune. "Now, you'resure of your game some day; and as you've no brothers, I suppose thesquire'll let you do pretty well what you like. Besides, he's not sostrong as my governor, though he's younger."

  Frank had never looked at his fortune in this light before, and wasso slow and green that he was not much delighted at the prospect nowthat it was offered to him. He had always, however, been taught tolook to his cousins, the de Courcys, as men with whom it would bevery expedient that he should be intimate; he therefore showed nooffence, but changed the conversation.

  "Shall you hunt with the Barsetshire this season, John? I hope youwill; I shall."

  "Well, I don't know. It's very slow. It's all tillage here, or elsewoodland. I rather fancy I shall go to Leicestershire when thepartridge-shooting is over. What sort of a lot do you mean to comeout with, Frank?"

  Frank became a little red as he answered, "Oh, I shall have two," hesaid; "that is, the mare I have had these two years, and the horse myfather gave me this morning."

  "What! only those two? and the mare is nothing more than a pony."

  "She is fifteen hands," said Frank, offended.

  "Well, Frank, I certainly would not stand that," said the HonourableJohn. "What, go out before the county with one untrained horse and apony; and you the heir to Greshamsbury!"

  "I'll have him so trained before November," said Frank, "thatnothing in Barsetshire shall stop him. Peter says"--Peter wasthe Greshamsbury stud-groom--"that he tucks up his hind legsbeautifully."

  "But who the deuce would think of going to work with one horse; ortwo either, if you insist on calling the old pony a huntress? I'llput you up to a trick, my lad: if you stand that you'll standanything; and if you don't mean to go in leading-strings all yourlife, now is the time to show it. There's young Baker--Harry Baker,you know--he came of age last year, and he has as pretty a string ofnags as any one would wish to set eyes on four hunters and a hack.Now, if old Baker has four thousand a year it's every shilling he hasgot."

  This was true, and Frank Gresham, who in the morning had been made sohappy by his father's present of a horse, began to feel that hardlyenough had been done for him. It was true that Mr Baker had only fourthousand a year; but it was also true that he had no other child thanHarry Baker; that he had no great establishment to keep up; that heowed a shilling to no one; and, also, that he was a great fool inencouraging a mere boy to ape all the caprices of a man of wealth.Nevertheless, for a moment, Frank Gresham did feel that, consideringhis position, he was being treated rather unworthily.

  "Take the matter in your own hands, Frank," said the Honourable John,seeing the impression that he had made. "Of course the governor knowsvery well that you won't put up with such a stable as that. Lordbless you! I have heard that when he married my aunt, and that waswhen he was about your age, he had the best stud in the whole county;and then he was in Parliament before he was three-and-twenty."

  "His father, you know, died when he was very young," said Frank.

  "Yes; I know he had a stroke of luck that doesn't fall to everyone;but--"

  Young Frank's face grew dark now instead of red. When his cousinsubmitted to him the necessity of having more than two horses forhis own use he could listen to him; but when the same monitor talkedof the chance of a father's death as a stroke of luck, Frank wastoo much disgusted to be able to pretend to pass it over withindifference. What! was he thus to think of his father, whose facewas always lighted up with pleasure when his boy came near to him,and so rarely bright at any other time? Frank had watched his fatherclosely enough to be aware of this; he knew how his father delightedin him; he had had cause to guess that his father had many troubles,and that he strove hard to banish the memory of them when his son waswith him. He loved his father truly, purely, and thoroughly, liked tobe with him, and would be proud to be his confidant. Could he thenlisten quietly while his cousin spoke of the chance of his father'sdeath as a stroke of luck?

  "I shouldn't think it a stroke of luck, John. I should think it thegreatest misfortune in the world."

  It is so difficult for a young man to enumerate sententiously aprinciple of morality, or even an expression of ordinary goodfeeling, without giving himself something of a ridiculous air,without assuming something of a mock grandeur!

  "Oh, of course, my dear fellow," said the Honourable John, laughing;"that's a matter of course. We all understand that without saying it.Porlock, of course, would feel exactly the same about the governor;but if the governor were to walk, I think Porlock would consolehimself with the thirty thousand a year."

  "I don't know what Porlock would do; he's always quarrelling with myuncle, I know. I only spoke of myself; I never quarrelled with myfather, and I hope I never shall."

  "All right, my lad of wax, all right. I dare say you won't be tried;but if you are, you'll find before six months are over, that it's avery nice thing to master of Greshamsbury."

  "I'm sure I shouldn't find anything of the kind."

  "Very well, so be it. You wouldn't do as young Hatherly did, atHatherly Court, in Gloucestershire, when his father kicked thebucket. You know Hatherly, don't you?"

  "No; I never saw him."

  "He's Sir Frederick now, and has, or had, one of the finest fortunesin England, for a commoner; the most of it is gone now. Well, when heheard of his governor's death, he was in Paris, but he went off toHatherly as fast as special train and post-horses would carry him,and got there just in time for the funeral. As he came back toHatherly Court from the church, they were putting up the hatchmentover the door, and Master Fred saw that the undertakers had put atthe bottom 'Resurgam.' You know what that means?"

  "Oh, yes," said Frank.

  "'I'll come back again,'" said the Honourable John, construing theLatin for the benefit of his cousin. "'No,' said Fred Hatherly,looking up at the hatchment; 'I'm blessed if you do, old gentleman.That would be too much of a joke; I'll take care of that.' So hegot up at night, and he got some fellows with him, and they climbedup and painted out 'Resurgam,' and they painted into its place,'Requiescat in pace;' which means, you know, 'you'd a great dealbetter stay where you are.' Now I call that good. Fred Hatherly didthat as sure as--as sure as--as sure as anything."

  Frank could not help laughing at the story, especially at hiscousin's mode of translating the undertaker's mottoes; and then theysauntered back from the stables into the house to dress for dinner.

  Dr Thorne had come to the house somewhat before dinner-time, at MrGresham's request, and was now sitting with the squire in his ownbook-room--so called--while Mary was talking to some of the girlsupstairs.

  "I must have ten or twelve thousand pounds; ten at the very least,"said the squire, who was sitting in his usual arm-chair, close to hislittered table, with his head supported on his hand, looking veryunlike the father of an heir of a noble property, who had that daycome of age.

  It was the first of July, and of course there was no fire in thegrate; but, nevertheless, the doctor was standing with his back tothe fireplace, with his coat-tails over his arms, as though he wereengaged, now in summer as he so often was in winter, in talking, androasting his hinder person at the same time.

  "Twelve thousand pounds! It's a very large sum of money."

  "I said ten," said the squire.

  "Ten thousand pounds is a very large sum of money. There is no doubthe'll let you have it. Scatcherd will let you have it; but I
knowhe'll expect to have the title deeds."

  "What! for ten thousand pounds?" said the squire. "There is not aregistered debt against the property but his own and Armstrong's."

  "But his own is very large already."

  "Armstrong's is nothing; about four-and-twenty thousand pounds."

  "Yes; but he comes first, Mr Gresham."

  "Well, what of that? To hear you talk, one would think that there wasnothing left of Greshamsbury. What's four-and-twenty thousand pounds?Does Scatcherd know what rent-roll is?"

  "Oh, yes, he knows it well enough: I wish he did not."

  "Well, then, why does he make such a bother about a few thousandpounds? The title-deeds, indeed!"

  "What he means is, that he must have ample security to cover what hehas already advanced before he goes on. I wish to goodness you hadno further need to borrow. I did think that things were settled lastyear."

  "Oh if there's any difficulty, Umbleby will get it for me."

  "Yes; and what will you have to pay for it?"

  "I'd sooner pay double than be talked to in this way," said thesquire, angrily, and, as he spoke, he got up hurriedly from hischair, thrust his hands into his trousers-pockets, walked quickly tothe window, and immediately walking back again, threw himself oncemore into his chair.

  "There are some things a man cannot bear, doctor," said he, beatingthe devil's tattoo on the floor with one of his feet, "though Godknows I ought to be patient now, for I am made to bear a good manythings. You had better tell Scatcherd that I am obliged to him forhis offer, but that I will not trouble him."

  The doctor during this little outburst had stood quite silent withhis back to the fireplace and his coat-tails hanging over his arms;but though his voice said nothing, his face said much. He was veryunhappy; he was greatly grieved to find that the squire was so soonagain in want of money, and greatly grieved also to find that thiswant had made him so bitter and unjust. Mr Gresham had attacked him;but as he was determined not to quarrel with Mr Gresham, he refrainedfrom answering.

  The squire also remained silent for a few minutes; but he was notendowed with the gift of silence, and was soon, as it were, compelledto speak again.

  "Poor Frank!" said he. "I could yet be easy about everything if itwere not for the injury I have done him. Poor Frank!"

  The doctor advanced a few paces from off the rug, and taking his handout of his pocket, he laid it gently on the squire's shoulder. "Frankwill do very well yet," said the he. "It is not absolutely necessarythat a man should have fourteen thousand pounds a year to be happy."

  "My father left me the property entire, and I should leave it entireto my son--but you don't understand this."

  The doctor did understand the feeling fully. The fact, on the otherhand, was that, long as he had known him, the squire did notunderstand the doctor.

  "I would you could, Mr Gresham," said the doctor, "so that your mindmight be happier; but that cannot be, and, therefore, I say again,that Frank will do very well yet, although he will not inheritfourteen thousand pounds a year; and I would have you say the samething to yourself."

  "Ah! you don't understand it," persisted the squire. "You don't knowhow a man feels when he--Ah, well! it's no use my troubling you withwhat cannot be mended. I wonder whether Umbleby is about the placeanywhere?"

  The doctor was again standing with his back against thechimney-piece, and with his hands in his pockets.

  "You did not see Umbleby as you came in?" again asked the squire.

  "No, I did not; and if you will take my advice you will not see himnow; at any rate with reference to this money."

  "I tell you I must get it from someone; you say Scatcherd won't letme have it."

  "No, Mr Gresham; I did not say that."

  "Well, you said what was as bad. Augusta is to be married inSeptember, and the money must be had. I have agreed to give Moffatsix thousand pounds, and he is to have the money down in hard cash."

  "Six thousand pounds," said the doctor. "Well, I suppose that is notmore than your daughter should have. But then, five times six arethirty; thirty thousand pounds will be a large sum to make up."

  The father thought to himself that his younger girls were butchildren, and that the trouble of arranging their marriage portionsmight well be postponed a while. Sufficient for the day is the evilthereof.

  "That Moffat is a griping, hungry fellow," said the squire. "Isuppose Augusta likes him; and, as regards money, it is a goodmatch."

  "If Miss Gresham loves him, that is everything. I am not in love withhim myself; but then, I am not a young lady."

  "The de Courcys are very fond of him. Lady de Courcy says that he isa perfect gentleman, and thought very much of in London."

  "Oh! if Lady de Courcy says that, of course, it's all right," saidthe doctor, with a quiet sarcasm, that was altogether thrown away onthe squire.

  The squire did not like any of the de Courcys; especially, he did notlike Lady de Courcy; but still he was accessible to a certain amountof gratification in the near connexion which he had with the earl andcountess; and when he wanted to support his family greatness, wouldsometimes weakly fall back upon the grandeur of Courcy Castle. Itwas only when talking to his wife that he invariably snubbed thepretensions of his noble relatives.

  The two men after this remained silent for a while; and then thedoctor, renewing the subject for which he had been summoned into thebook-room, remarked, that as Scatcherd was now in the country--hedid not say, was now at Boxall Hill, as he did not wish to wound thesquire's ears--perhaps he had better go and see him, and ascertainin what way this affair of the money might be arranged. There wasno doubt, he said, that Scatcherd would supply the sum required ata lower rate of interest than that at which it could be procuredthrough Umbleby's means.

  "Very well," said the squire. "I'll leave it in your hands, then. Ithink ten thousand pounds will do. And now I'll dress for dinner."And then the doctor left him.

  Perhaps the reader will suppose after this that the doctor had somepecuniary interest of his own in arranging the squire's loans; or, atany rate, he will think that the squire must have so thought. Not inthe least; neither had he any such interest, nor did the squire thinkthat he had any. What Dr Thorne did in this matter the squire wellknew was done for love. But the squire of Greshamsbury was a greatman at Greshamsbury; and it behoved him to maintain the greatness ofhis squirehood when discussing his affairs with the village doctor.So much he had at any rate learnt from his contact with the deCourcys.

  And the doctor--proud, arrogant, contradictory, headstrong as hewas--why did he bear to be thus snubbed? Because he knew that thesquire of Greshamsbury, when struggling with debt and poverty,required an indulgence for his weakness. Had Mr Gresham been in easycircumstances, the doctor would by no means have stood so placidlywith his hands in his pockets, and have had Mr Umbleby thus thrown inhis teeth. The doctor loved the squire, loved him as his own oldestfriend; but he loved him ten times better as being in adversity thanhe could ever have done had things gone well at Greshamsbury in histime.

  While this was going on downstairs, Mary was sitting upstairs withBeatrice Gresham in the schoolroom. The old schoolroom, so called,was now a sitting-room, devoted to the use of the grown-up youngladies of the family, whereas one of the old nurseries was now themodern schoolroom. Mary well knew her way to the sanctum, and,without asking any questions, walked up to it when her uncle went tothe squire. On entering the room she found that Augusta and the LadyAlexandrina were also there, and she hesitated for a moment at thedoor.

  "Come in, Mary," said Beatrice, "you know my cousin Alexandrina."Mary came in, and having shaken hands with her two friends, wasbowing to the lady, when the lady condescended, put out her noblehand, and touched Miss Thorne's fingers.

  Beatrice was Mary's friend, and many heart-burnings and much mentalsolicitude did that young lady give to her mother by indulging insuch a friendship. But Beatrice, with some faults, was true at heart,and she persisted in loving Mary Thorne in spite of
the hints whichher mother so frequently gave as to the impropriety of such anaffection.

  Nor had Augusta any objection to the society of Miss Thorne. Augustawas a strong-minded girl, with much of the de Courcy arrogance, butquite as well inclined to show it in opposition to her mother as inany other form. To her alone in the house did Lady Arabella show muchdeference. She was now going to make a suitable match with a man oflarge fortune, who had been procured for her as an eligible _parti_by her aunt, the countess. She did not pretend, had never pretended,that she loved Mr Moffat, but she knew, she said, that in the presentstate of her father's affairs such a match was expedient. Mr Moffatwas a young man of very large fortune, in Parliament, inclined tobusiness, and in every way recommendable. He was not a man of birth,to be sure; that was to be lamented;--in confessing that Mr Moffatwas not a man of birth, Augusta did not go so far as to admit that hewas the son of a tailor; such, however, was the rigid truth in thismatter--he was not a man of birth, that was to be lamented; but inthe present state of affairs at Greshamsbury, she understood wellthat it was her duty to postpone her own feelings in some respect. MrMoffat would bring fortune; she would bring blood and connexion. Andas she so said, her bosom glowed with strong pride to think that shewould be able to contribute so much more towards the proposed futurepartnership than her husband would do.

  'Twas thus that Miss Gresham spoke of her match to her dear friends,her cousins the de Courcys for instance, to Miss Oriel, her sisterBeatrice, and even to Mary Thorne. She had no enthusiasm, sheadmitted, but she thought she had good judgment. She thought shehad shown good judgment in accepting Mr Moffat's offer, though shedid not pretend to any romance of affection. And, having so said,she went to work with considerable mental satisfaction, choosingfurniture, carriages, and clothes, not extravagantly as her motherwould have done, not in deference to sterner dictates of the latestfashion as her aunt would have done, with none of the girlish gleein new purchases which Beatrice would have felt, but with soundjudgment. She bought things that were rich, for her husband was to berich, and she meant to avail herself of his wealth; she bought thingsthat were fashionable, for she meant to live in the fashionableworld; but she bought what was good, and strong, and lasting, andworth its money.

  Augusta Gresham had perceived early in life that she could not obtainsuccess either as an heiress, or as a beauty, nor could she shineas a wit; she therefore fell back on such qualities as she had, anddetermined to win the world as a strong-minded, useful woman. Thatwhich she had of her own was blood; having that, she would in allways do what in her lay to enhance its value. Had she not possessedit, it would to her mind have been the vainest of pretences.

  When Mary came in, the wedding preparations were being discussed. Thenumber and names of the bridesmaids were being settled, the dresseswere on the tapis, the invitations to be given were talked over.Sensible as Augusta was, she was not above such feminine cares; shewas, indeed, rather anxious that the wedding should go off well. Shewas a little ashamed of her tailor's son, and therefore anxious thatthings should be as brilliant as possible.

  The bridesmaid's names had just been written on a card as Maryentered the room. There were the Ladies Amelia, Rosina, Margaretta,and Alexandrina of course at the head of it; then came Beatrice andthe twins; then Miss Oriel, who, though only a parson's sister, wasa person of note, birth, and fortune. After this there had been herea great discussion whether or not there should be any more. If therewere to be one more there must be two. Now Miss Moffat had expresseda direct wish, and Augusta, though she would much rather have donewithout her, hardly knew how to refuse. Alexandrina--we hope wemay be allowed to drop the "lady" for the sake of brevity, for thepresent scene only--was dead against such an unreasonable request."We none of us know her, you know; and it would not be comfortable."Beatrice strongly advocated the future sister-in-law's acceptanceinto the bevy; she had her own reasons; she was pained that MaryThorne should not be among the number, and if Miss Moffat wereaccepted, perhaps Mary might be brought in as her colleague.

  "If you have Miss Moffat," said Alexandrina, "you must have dearPussy too; and I really think that Pussy is too young; it will betroublesome." Pussy was the youngest Miss Gresham, who was now onlyeight years old, and whose real name was Nina.

  "Augusta," said Beatrice, speaking with some slight hesitation, somesoupcon of doubt, before the high authority of her noble cousin, "ifyou do have Miss Moffat would you mind asking Mary Thorne to joinher? I think Mary would like it, because, you see, Patience Orielis to be one; and we have known Mary much longer than we have knownPatience."

  Then out and spake the Lady Alexandrina.

  "Beatrice, dear, if you think of what you are asking, I am sure youwill see that it would not do; would not do at all. Miss Thorne is avery nice girl, I am sure; and, indeed, what little I have seen ofher I highly approve. But, after all, who is she? Mamma, I know,thinks that Aunt Arabella has been wrong to let her be here so much,but--"

  Beatrice became rather red in the face, and, in spite of the dignityof her cousin, was preparing to defend her friend.

  "Mind, I am not saying a word against Miss Thorne."

  "If I am married before her, she shall be one of my bridesmaids,"said Beatrice.

  "That will probably depend on circumstances," said the LadyAlexandrina; I find that I cannot bring my courteous pen to drop thetitle. "But Augusta is very peculiarly situated. Mr Moffat is, yousee, not of the very highest birth; and, therefore, she should takecare that on her side every one about her is well born."

  "Then you cannot have Miss Moffat," said Beatrice.

  "No; I would not if I could help it," said the cousin.

  "But the Thornes are as good a family as the Greshams," saidBeatrice. She had not quite the courage to say, as good as the deCourcys.

  "I dare say they are; and if this was Miss Thorne of Ullathorne,Augusta probably would not object to her. But can you tell me whoMiss Mary Thorne is?"

  "She is Dr Thorne's niece."

  "You mean that she is called so; but do you know who her fatherwas, or who her mother was? I, for one, must own I do not. Mamma, Ibelieve, does, but--"

  At this moment the door opened gently and Mary Thorne entered theroom.

  It may easily be conceived, that while Mary was making hersalutations the three other young ladies were a little cast aback.The Lady Alexandrina, however, quickly recovered herself, and, by herinimitable presence of mind and facile grace of manner, soon put thematter on a proper footing.

  "We were discussing Miss Gresham's marriage," said she; "I am sure Imay mention to an acquaintance of so long standing as Miss Thorne,that the first of September has been now fixed for the wedding."

  Miss Gresham! Acquaintance of so long standing! Why, Mary and AugustaGresham had for years, we will hardly say now for how many, passedtheir mornings together in the same schoolroom; had quarrelled, andsquabbled, and caressed and kissed, and been all but as sisters toeach other. Acquaintance indeed! Beatrice felt that her ears weretingling, and even Augusta was a little ashamed. Mary, however,knew that the cold words had come from a de Courcy, and not from aGresham, and did not, therefore, resent them.

  "So it's settled, Augusta, is it?" said she; "the first of September.I wish you joy with all my heart," and, coming round, she put her armover Augusta's shoulder and kissed her. The Lady Alexandrina couldnot but think that the doctor's niece uttered her congratulationsvery much as though she were speaking to an equal; very much asthough she had a father and mother of her own.

  "You will have delicious weather," continued Mary. "September, andthe beginning of October, is the nicest time of the year. If I weregoing honeymooning it is just the time of year I would choose."

  "I wish you were, Mary," said Beatrice.

  "So do not I, dear, till I have found some decent sort of a body tohoneymoon along with me. I won't stir out of Greshamsbury till I havesent you off before me, at any rate. And where will you go, Augusta?"

  "We have not settled that," said Augusta. "
Mr Moffat talks of Paris."

  "Who ever heard of going to Paris in September?" said the LadyAlexandrina.

  "Or who ever heard of the gentleman having anything to say on thematter?" said the doctor's niece. "Of course Mr Moffat will gowherever you are pleased to take him."

  The Lady Alexandrina was not pleased to find how completely thedoctor's niece took upon herself to talk, and sit, and act atGreshamsbury as though she was on a par with the young ladies ofthe family. That Beatrice should have allowed this would not havesurprised her; but it was to be expected that Augusta would haveshown better judgment.

  "These things require some tact in their management; some delicacywhen high interests are at stake," said she; "I agree with MissThorne in thinking that, in ordinary circumstances, with ordinarypeople, perhaps, the lady should have her way. Rank, however, has itsdrawbacks, Miss Thorne, as well as its privileges."

  "I should not object to the drawbacks," said the doctor's niece,"presuming them to be of some use; but I fear I might fail in gettingon so well with the privileges."

  The Lady Alexandrina looked at her as though not fully aware whethershe intended to be pert. In truth, the Lady Alexandrina was rather inthe dark on the subject. It was almost impossible, it was incredible,that a fatherless, motherless, doctor's niece should be pert to anearl's daughter at Greshamsbury, seeing that that earl's daughter wasthe cousin of the Miss Greshams. And yet the Lady Alexandrina hardlyknew what other construction to put on the words she had just heard.

  It was at any rate clear to her that it was not becoming that sheshould just then stay any longer in that room. Whether she intendedto be pert or not, Miss Mary Thorne was, to say the least, very free.The de Courcy ladies knew what was due to them--no ladies better;and, therefore, the Lady Alexandrina made up her mind at once to goto her own bedroom.

  "Augusta," she said, rising slowly from her chair with much statelycomposure, "it is nearly time to dress; will you come with me? Wehave a great deal to settle, you know."

  So she swam out of the room, and Augusta, telling Mary that she wouldsee her again at dinner, swam--no, tried to swim--after her. MissGresham had had great advantages; but she had not been absolutelybrought up at Courcy Castle, and could not as yet quite assume theCourcy style of swimming.

  "There," said Mary, as the door closed behind the rustling muslinsof the ladies. "There, I have made an enemy for ever, perhaps two;that's satisfactory."

  "And why have you done it, Mary? When I am fighting your battlesbehind your back, why do you come and upset it all by making thewhole family of the de Courcys dislike you? In such a matter as that,they'll all go together."

  "I am sure they will," said Mary; "whether they would be equallyunanimous in a case of love and charity, that, indeed, is anotherquestion."

  "But why should you try to make my cousin angry; you that ought tohave so much sense? Don't you remember what you were saying yourselfthe other day, of the absurdity of combatting pretences which theworld sanctions?"

  "I do, Trichy, I do; don't scold me now. It is so much easier topreach than to practise. I do so wish I was a clergyman."

  "But you have done so much harm, Mary."

  "Have I?" said Mary, kneeling down on the ground at her friend'sfeet. "If I humble myself very low; if I kneel through the wholeevening in a corner; if I put my neck down and let all your cousinstrample on it, and then your aunt, would not that make atonement? Iwould not object to wearing sackcloth, either; and I'd eat a littleashes--or, at any rate, I'd try."

  "I know you're clever, Mary; but still I think you're a fool. I do,indeed."

  "I am a fool, Trichy, I do confess it; and am not a bit clever; butdon't scold me; you see how humble I am; not only humble but umble,which I look upon to be the comparative, or, indeed, superlativedegree. Or perhaps there are four degrees; humble, umble, stumble,tumble; and then, when one is absolutely in the dirt at their feet,perhaps these big people won't wish one to stoop any further."

  "Oh, Mary!"

  "And, oh, Trichy! you don't mean to say I mayn't speak out beforeyou. There, perhaps you'd like to put your foot on my neck." And thenshe put her head down to the footstool and kissed Beatrice's feet.

  "I'd like, if I dared, to put my hand on your cheek and give you agood slap for being such a goose."

  "Do; do, Trichy: you shall tread on me, or slap me, or kiss me;whichever you like."

  "I can't tell you how vexed I am," said Beatrice; "I wanted toarrange something."

  "Arrange something! What? arrange what? I love arranging. I fancymyself qualified to be an arranger-general in female matters. Imean pots and pans, and such like. Of course I don't allude toextraordinary people and extraordinary circumstances that requiretact, and delicacy, and drawbacks, and that sort of thing."

  "Very well, Mary."

  "But it's not very well; it's very bad if you look like that. Well,my pet, there I won't. I won't allude to the noble blood of yournoble relatives either in joke or in earnest. What is it you want toarrange, Trichy?"

  "I want you to be one of Augusta's bridesmaids."

  "Good heavens, Beatrice! Are you mad? What! Put me, even for amorning, into the same category of finery as the noble blood fromCourcy Castle!"

  "Patience is to be one."

  "But that is no reason why Impatience should be another, and I shouldbe very impatient under such honours. No, Trichy; joking apart, donot think of it. Even if Augusta wished it I should refuse. I shouldbe obliged to refuse. I, too, suffer from pride; a pride quite asunpardonable as that of others: I could not stand with your fourlady-cousins behind your sister at the altar. In such a galaxy theywould be the stars and I--"

  "Why, Mary, all the world knows that you are prettier than any ofthem!"

  "I am all the world's very humble servant. But, Trichy, I shouldnot object if I were as ugly as the veiled prophet and they all asbeautiful as Zuleika. The glory of that galaxy will be held to dependnot on its beauty, but on its birth. You know how they would look atme; how they would scorn me; and there, in church, at the altar, withall that is solemn round us, I could not return their scorn as Imight do elsewhere. In a room I'm not a bit afraid of them all." AndMary was again allowing herself to be absorbed by that feeling ofindomitable pride, of antagonism to the pride of others, which sheherself in her cooler moments was the first to blame.

  "You often say, Mary, that that sort of arrogance should be despisedand passed over without notice."

  "So it should, Trichy. I tell you that as a clergyman tells you tohate riches. But though the clergyman tells you so, he is not theless anxious to be rich himself."

  "I particularly wish you to be one of Augusta's bridesmaids."

  "And I particularly wish to decline the honour; which honour hasnot been, and will not be, offered to me. No, Trichy. I will not beAugusta's bridesmaid, but--but--but--"

  "But what, dearest?"

  "But, Trichy, when some one else is married, when the new wing hasbeen built to a house that you know of--"

  "Now, Mary, hold your tongue, or you know you'll make me angry."

  "I do so like to see you angry. And when that time comes, when thatwedding does take place, then I will be a bridesmaid, Trichy. Yes!even though I am not invited. Yes! though all the de Courcys inBarsetshire should tread upon me and obliterate me. Though I shouldbe as dust among the stars, though I should creep up in calico amongtheir satins and lace, I will nevertheless be there; close, close tothe bride; to hold something for her, to touch her dress, to feelthat I am near to her, to--to--to--" and she threw her arms round hercompanion, and kissed her over and over again. "No, Trichy; I won'tbe Augusta's bridesmaid; I'll bide my time for bridesmaiding."

  What protestations Beatrice made against the probability of such anevent as foreshadowed in her friend's promise we will not repeat. Theafternoon was advancing, and the ladies also had to dress for dinner,to do honour to the young heir.